Page 47 of Infernal Vices

The man turned his back and walked further into the apartment saying, “Yes, yes, come in. She’s still in her dressing room, won’t be long. You know what ladies are like!” Cavendish let out an animalistic guffaw. “Indeed. I have to give my wife at least a weeks notice before any social occasion,” he laughed. I seethed; the man was a boorish oaf.

We all followed the elderly gentleman through another set of double doors into the suite of rooms. The Claridges penthouse was the height of luxury with a vast open lounge and windows looking out over the skyline of London. The early morning smog had been burned away by bright spring sunshine and the view was most excellent. To the left was a dining area and to the right a well-appointed open-plan seating area with deep green velvet couches, a chaise longue, and low mahogany coffee table. The Rajkumari was nowhere to be seen, but the grey haired man seated himself at the dining table, and was reading a sheaf of papers. I coughed to get his attention. He did not glance up from his documents but said.

“Hello gentlemen, I am Mr. Fairfax, lawyer for the family. Please do sit down, we don’t put on airs.” He tossed out a hand and flicked it in the general direction of the seating area, shooing us away like troublesome children. All three of my compatriots turned and glared at me as if this lawyer’s bad manners were somehow my fault. Perplexed, I shrugged for I did not know what the devil was going on. I had not known that a lawyer would be in attendance, but, thinking about it, it was a nice touch, giving authenticity to the proceedings. Then, I noticed the man’s feet under the dining table—that he was wearing highly fashionable boots. They were two-tone inky black and cognac russet leather ankle boots. I knew immediately that these were the handiwork of the famous Mr. Edwin Clapp of Massachusetts. A gentleman with whom I was intimately acquainted owned a pair of these very boots. I coughed into my hand, hiding a laugh, for I realised then that beneath the unruly silver hair, beard, and half moon spectacles was Sebastian disguised as the curmudgeonly Mr. Fairfax. Oh, this was going to be fun!

I took the initiative to move to the seating area and eased into a very comfortable armchair. My companions followed and then, unsure of what to do, for we could not converse while Fairfax was working, we sat glaring at one another. After several uncomfortable minutes there was a knock at the door.

“Could one of you fellows get that?” Fairfax mumbled. I sent my gaze to Blake, who pouted as if answering a door was an outrageous imposition. Then I looked at Cavendish who was lost in his thoughts and appeared to not have heard the request at all, and then Charles sighed loudly, rose to his feet, and strode towards the door. There’s a good chap! Charles returned a moment later followed by waiters and a train of trolleys laden with food and refreshments.

“Ah, luncheon, good, good,” the lawyer said and began to pack up his papers. The waiters then set the table for lunch.

“Please come and join us at the table, gentlemen. I shall fetch the Rajkumari,” Fairfax said, striding down a hallway to the left of the lounge. I heard the sharp knock on the bedroom door.

Rajkumari Nissa stepped out of her room, took a hold of Mr. Fairfax’s elbow, and as decorous as true royalty, she paraded into the lounge. Nissa appeared starkly different from when we dined together. She was not wearing western garments, but styled to appear demur, innocent and regal in a traditional Indian dress of a pink sari encrusted with sequins and delicate embroidery of lotus flowers. Her coal black hair was loose and partly covered by a magenta headscarf decorated with strings of gold chains and small pendants. Her whisky eyes—eyes that mirrored those of her father, were lined with black makeup and her lips were painted a deep crimson red. I took a glance at each of my associates as we stood behind our chairs awaiting the lady, and it appeared they were indeed mesmerized by Nissa’s exotic beauty. Mr. Fairfax led her to the head of the table and pulled a chair out for the young lady to sit, and then Fairfax took a seat to her right. We all sat, I was opposite Sebastian, with Nissa to my left.

Nissa then spoke, “It is a pleasure to meet you all, gentlemen. I of course know dear Benedict, but I have not met the rest of you before,” she began affecting an Indian lilt to her voice. Sebastian was correct; his daughter was an excellent actress.

“Please forgive me the poor manners, Rajkumari,” I said and then gestured to my right. “I would like to introduce you to my compatriots, Mr. Lawrence Blake of the Americas, Mr Benjamin Cavendish Member of Parliament, and Mr. Charles Ashe, an artist for the Illustrated Police News.”

“Goodness. You hail from all walks of life. How fascinating! It is a pleasure, gentlemen,” Nissa said.

“No, my dear the pleasure is all mine. I am so very grateful you have taken the time to meet with us at such short notice,” Blake charmed, attempting to seduce her with his American accent. Ashe spoke up next, “It is indeed an honour to meet you, Rajkumari. I would be delighted if you could permit me a few minutes after luncheon to draw your likeness for the society page.” Nissa smiled, and her eyes twinkled.

“That does indeed sound like fun, Mr. Ashe.” She then turned and gestured to the two waiters by the trolleys and they began service.

We were presented with a selection of beverages, sandwiches, pastries, and salads before the waiters left us. Then over the next thirty minutes we ate as we conversed about the weather, of the sights to see in London, and of the upcoming society season. It was the third topic that seemed to animate both Blake and Rajkumari Nissa.

“This is a…delicate subject, Rajkumari,” Blake began.

“We are all friends here, are we not, Mr. Blake? Please, speak freely.”

“I am interested in why you are willing to play the fiancée of our dear young Baron, Rajkumari. I’m sure a young lady of your…status has no trouble attracting invitations. You will indeed find many an eager suitor in London.”

“Mr. Blake, maybe Benedict did not inform you of my circumstance out of respect for my privacy.” Nissa turned and nodded her thanks to me.

“And so I will explain what I wish to achieve by helping Baron Von Leibenstein. Benedict relayed the Baron’s predicament to me. The Baron and I are both new to London society. It is, of course, an intimidating prospect to step into the Bon-Ton without friends and supporters.”

“Hmmm. I can see this would be of concern for you as a debutante,” Blake agreed.

“I am independently wealthy and I realize that this will make me the prize of the season. It is why Mr. Fairfax remains with me to protect my virtue and my assets. The Baron is lucky to have gathered a group of…like-minded friends. And so, if the Baron and I become allies, we can navigate the politics and parties together.”

“Indeed.” Fairfax said, “The Rajkumari’s parents were very firm in their wishes that their only daughter should be protected at all costs. Even though I am not the Rajkumari’s father, I like to think of myself as a patriarch, steering my charge onto the…correct path.”

Nissa paused and gave the lawyer a scolding look. “But I would like to have a little fun, Fairfax,” the look turned playful. Fairfax smiled and shook his head.

“However,” Nissa continued, “I must confess, I am not in search of a suitor. My tastes are…of a different flavour…do you understand? I do not require the attention of gentlemen.”

Benjamin Cavendish wore a wolfish grin. “Ah, yes, yes, now I understand. You prefer to tip the velvet, aye!” he said salaciously. “You favour the Island of Lesbos,” he laughed crudely as he picked up his China teacup and took a swig of tea as if it were brandy.

I let out an audible sigh, embarrassed by Cavendish’s offensive words. Ashe and I gave each other knowing glances. Cavendish was a boor and a liability.

Nissa remained stalwart, straight-backed, and unaffected by the crude words. “Yes, Mr. Cavendish. I prefer female company and I understand your charge, Baron Leopold, does not encourage the attention of ladies.” My associates gasped and turned to give me murderous glares as if I had betrayed their trust.

“No, Benedict did not tell me anything of your business. I am very good at reading people, and this deduction, proved correct by your reaction, was made by me alone.” The silence was a tangible weight in the room. The princess took a dainty sip from her teacup as the other men glared at her.

“I believe we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement which will allow us both to enter society without attracting the attention of those in the marriage mart. Mr. Fairfax has drawn up an agreement.” Nissa nodded to Fairfax and on cue, he reached into the briefcase by his chair and removed a sheaf of papers. He passed them to Benjamin Cavendish, who received them. A silent minute passed as he read the contents.

“This seems quite straightforward. Leo’s father, Baron Maximillian will be led to believe that you are his son’s intended. We will ensure you are invited to society events, and showcase you as Leo’s fiancée. You in turn will keep all information on this agreement as confidential. No money will change hands; this is a quid-pro-quo arrangement that ensures Leopold will remain in London to engage in society without a paternal reprimand. As I will be his mentor while in London, I am quite happy to sign this.”

Mr. Fairfax removed a fountain pen from his briefcase and offered it to Cavendish. The contract was signed, and all was calm and businesslike. Blake and Cavendish appeared virtually incandescent with delight as they grinned at one another across the dining table. I sent a speculative look toward Nissa, Sebastian, and Ashe. The snare was set. Blake was our prey and we would have our day to best this charlatan.

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